A Pregnancy, a Pandemic, and a Pear Tart
When I first discovered I was pregnant, we were deep into a very strange spring.
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I posed the question to her, earnestly, seriously: If given the choice, would she rather gain weight or would she rather die?
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On the heels of my diagnosis, I feel there is no way to construct a narrative around what’s happening to me—a deep betrayal for a writer.
In the emergency room waiting for a potential diagnosis, I soothe myself with loops of pudgy toddlers tripping into the antics of babyhood over and over again.